Randy Hawks, age 55, passed away April 23, 2013. He was born to Robert Hawks and Velora Hawks (Hatch), graduated from Lincoln High School in 1976, and married Kathleen Futrell in 1979.

Randy and Kathleen owned Bob’s Lock & Key where he worked as a locksmith. He was an active member of the Boy Scouts, the Knights of Columbus, and St. Therese Parish.

Randy is survived by his wife, sons Jordan Hawks and Ryan (Stephanie) Hawks, his daughter, Gina Hawks, 7 grandchildren, brothers Ken (Nancy) Hawks and Doug Hawks, sister Cindy (Scott) Myer, and many nieces and nephews. He was preceded in death by his parents, a sister Corliss (John) Parsons, and a daughter, Elyssa Colleen Hawks.

Visitation will begin at 2 PM Sunday at St. Lambert Church with a Scripture Vigil at 7 PM followed by a Knights of Columbus Rosary. Mass of Christian Burial will be Monday, 10 AM at St. Lambert Church with burial to follow at St. Michael Cemetery.

A tribute to Randy Hawks, by Jordan Hawks.

I could fill a library with memories of my father that would rival that of Alexandria. An epitaph of his philosophy and wisdom that could put to shame the learned Greeks, a monument of his life that could destroy all the art and architecture the world has ever known. If only this pen were lighter.

The more I write, the further away you seem. It feels like every letter is a shovel full of earth on your grave. Like I'm forever entombing you with my own inadequate repertoire. How could my combination of the English alphabet ever do justice to someone so magnanimous, so supremely kind, so full of love for others? An empathy that will never be matched by another human. He always saw the good in every person, every situation no matter what anyone else thought. His opinions of events and people were always based on his uncommon and unique world view. His generosity could always be seen by the smile that came with every word I had the joy of hearing him utter.He leaves behind a most patient and loving wife; who throughout my memory has never had any real complaints about him. Just stories of slight annoyance that now begin to characterize his lighthearted ability to never answer a good question with a "yes" or "no." who had to mount a white horse and charge full speed into any problem we confided in him.

My brother is someone who made my father extremely proud. It was plain as anything to see how his face would light up when he mentioned my brother’s service to his nation, and his family. I see the most of my father’s best qualities in my brother. I almost can’t wait for the first time I have to call him to unlock my car. I can just see his eyes crinkle into a wide, closed-mouth grin of understanding and subtle jest.My sister has the biggest, most accepting heart I have ever known.

It is now in ten-thousand pieces. Which would have broken my father to see; she loved him as only a daughter can love her father. The two have been inseparable since I can remember. Their relationship went beyond simply family, beyond all words, and will continue beyond time. The depths of debasement we all feel will be eased, somewhat, when we remember how he made each one of his family members feel completely special. I think we all got to see a tiny bit of him that nobody else saw. It was our unique part of him to have forever and nobody, not even death, will be able to take that away from us.

I would like to mention the Knights of Columbus and how important they were to him, and are to us. If there was ever an organization that did more for and through my father it would be the Church itself. He was always excited to volunteer his limited free time to assist the Knights in any way he could. I can see the sparkle in his eyes as we talked on Monday about the convention and his run for state office. If the Knights ever know even a tenth of his love and appreciation for their organization I would be impressed.

He never had a complaint, unless it was telling other drivers how dismal they could be at operating their vehicles. He was rarely without and ear to ear grin, which was usually accompanied by some anecdote that no matter how lame was infectious. He was the kind of man who put up the Christmas tree at Bob's Lock and Key when it snowed last Monday; the kind of husband who slept on the couch anytime my mother was on a trip; the kind of father who made all of our friends jealous and say they wished he was their dad too. The kind of man I will always miss.